


Fools Rush In

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-21
Updated: 2004-05-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if "Waiting In The Wings," had gone differently? What if it had been Wesley with Cordelia in that room instead of Angel? Well, a lot mixed emotions, mixed messages and stuttering, that’s what!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Author's Note: I've used some of the dialogue from "Waiting In The Wings," for this prelude, but after that, everything goes AU. Also, this starts halfway through the episode, when Cordy goes backstage. Only she doesn’t go with Angel, she goes with Wesley.

***

Wes followed Cordelia through the door and shut it behind him. He frowned and rubbed his knuckles. Maybe he shouldn’t have hit the guard so hard. They had attempted to bribe their way in after Wes had dismissed Cordelia's idea of making with the "nice, nice."

He had no idea why he had offered to check out backstage. He had hoped to talk to Cordy about Fred. Yes, he knew that the iron was hot, but that did nothing for the heart stopping fear and absolute certainty that he was going to make a complete and utter mess of it. He wanted a little advice from a woman about the best approach. And that was why he spouted a load of nonsense about Angel needing to stay behind and watch the dancers. Maybe he would be able to pick up something about them, perhaps they were demons. Angel had the great eyesight; he'd be able to pick that kind of thing up.

And Angel had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Meaning that Wes was left to do what the vampire would have done.

"Well, wonderful," he sighed, rubbing his knuckles again, "I've turned into Angel. First stop, punching a guard. Next thing you know, I'll be engaging in gratuitous violence, jumping off buildings and drinking -" he stopped as Cordelia grabbed his arm and tugged repeatedly, "what is it, Cord - oh. Well, that's… new."

"You saw the building as we drove by," Cordy said, fear edging into her voice as she looked down the never ending left, "do you remember it going on forever?"

"Not that I recall," Wes replied.

"Yeah, but you were making doe eyes at Fred, so it's not like you'd have noticed even if…" she tailed off as she looked back to the door.

Or where the door should have been. 

"I suppose that rules out regrouping," Wes muttered.

"What do we do now, Brains?"

"First, you stop calling me Brains and second, I suppose we ought to check this out. If we're stuck here -"

"Woah, mister," Cordy cut in, "we are not stuck here. The others will help us."

"Thank you for that stunning display of support, Cordelia," he huffed, "nice to know you believe in me."

"I do believe in you, Wesley," she said, giving his arm a squeeze when she realised she had hurt his feelings, "I just don’t believe in your ability to carve a door in thin air. Come on."

"Where are we going?" Wes asked as she tugged him down the hall, "do you think it'll be less never ending if we go this way?"

"We're private investigators," she reminded him, "let's investigate."

"No, Cordy. We're a bunch of sword happy people masquerading as private investigators. I believe you've said it more than once that private investigating is what we suck at."

"Well, this will be good practice," she shrugged and continued to drag him down the hall.

He caught her wrist as they passed a door and drew her to a halt. She shot him a questioning look.

"You said we ought to investigate," he told her, "so come on. Let's start here."

She shrugged and followed him into the dressing room. She knew instantly whose it was. She wasn’t sure how, she just… knew.

"The prima ballerina," she breathed.

"Yes," he answered; frowning as she brushed passed him and picked up a cross from the dressing table.

"She would wait for him here," she said softly.

"Cordelia?" he asked, taking a step toward her, reaching out to her.

"I feel it," she whispered.

He lowered his hand, nodding in understanding.

"Something happened here," he said, turning to look for clues.

"Wesley."

"Yes?" he answered distractedly, glancing back at her.

"I want you… to undress me."

He reeled around, eyes wide. She came towards him and he stumbled back, slamming painfully into the couch.

"Pardon?" he spluttered.

"It's just another costume," she continued, "I want you to see who I really am. You're the only one who can."

"Cordelia," Wes said slowly, "this isn't us. You're acting this out. Someone is -"

"Whoa!" she burst out, stopping suddenly, "did - did I actually ask you to undress me?"

"Is that what you want?" he asked, voice dipping as he took one long stride toward Cordelia, taking hold of her upper arms as he stared into her eyes.

"Please… I…" she whimpered desperately, pressing against him.

"You want me to make love to you right here?" he asked.

"You know I do," she gasped.

He smiled a little, ran his fingers down her cheek. She shivered as he leaned in closer.

"But you're a afraid," he whispered, lips brushing against her ear.

"What if he finds us?" she asked, fear creeping in through her arousal.

"I'm not afraid," he stated, "I'm not afraid of anything."

"I'm only alive when you're inside me," she said.

And that was enough for him. He pulled her as close as possible and kissed her passionately, easing her toward the couch. They sank onto it and his hands ran down her sides, fingers skimming over the silk of her dress, desperate to feel the skin that burned through the fabric. Her fingers pushed through his hair and she caught hold of a tuft and squeezed a little too tightly.

"Cordelia!" Wes gasped out, pushing away from her.

"Yes," she answered, sitting up and easing away from him.

"I'm sorry," he panted, smoothing his shirt with quick, agitated strokes.

"No," she shook her head; "we so need to be out of here."

"Yes," he agreed.

But they didn’t move, instead they moved toward each other again, breathing fast and shallow.

"This isn't out of here," she pointed out, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

"I know," he said, fingertips dancing over her shoulders as they eased away from the couch. They stumbled toward the door and she turned her back to him in an attempt to get away. But her arm moved of its own accord and snaked up around his neck.

"Open the damn door," she gritted out.

"Kinda hard," he answered edgily.

"Kinda noticed," she replied, pressing against him.

As she pressed even tighter, he reached out desperately and grabbed the door handle. He tried to turn it, but his fingers went lax and started to drift back toward Cordy's body. But her fingers twisted sharply in his hair and his hand tightened around the door handle, turning it and yanking it open. He gave her a slight push and they ran out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Whoa!" Cordy said.

"I'll second that," Wes replied, running his hands through his hair.

"What the hell is that place?" Cordy demanded, pointing at the door.

"Well, at a guess, I'd say we were possessed. There's spirits in there, energy trapped in time."

"Yes. Scary," Cordy shuddered, "well, it's a good thing it wears off right away."

She laughed self-conciously as Wes nodded in agreement. They looked toward the floor and Wes stifled a yelp, turning away from her slightly.

"Yes, good thing it wears off right away," he spluttered, "let's get away from here. There must be a way out."

"God, I hope so," she answered, waiting from him to move.

"Oh," he said, "after you."

He waved her in front of him and she shot him a sceptical look. He followed her, wrapping his jacket tightly around him.

"Are you sure this is the way?" she asked after a moments walking through identical hallways.

"It's a way," he answered, "this is a maze. Perhaps there's another room we can go through to get out of here."

"Damn it!"

"You're not possessed again, are you?"

"No," she glared at him; "I said something…"

"You're always saying something," he muttered.

"Something important," she went on, glaring at him again, "do you remember?"

He shrugged, thought for a moment and shrugged again.

"Umm, you did say that you're only alive when I'm… well…"

"Not that."

"Oh, no. Of course not. I just meant… Or, there was… I did say that you were afraid?"

"And I said, what if he finds us."

"So… She had a secret lover," Wes nodded, grateful to be able to put the pieces together, "but secret from whom?"

"They were afraid of someone. And I'll bet you anything that someone is the reason why we're stuck here! We left too soon."

She swept passed him and he stood frozen for a moment in shock.

"Excuse me?" Wes asked, jogging after her and pulling her to a halt, "go back? Have you gone completely insane?"

"It's a clue, Wesley!" she cried, "those spirits or - or energy or - or whatever are still in there. So we can figure out what happened. We have to go back in!"

"No," he said, following her as she carried on walking again, "no, no, no. And might I add, no. This is not going to happen."

"Look, I won't tell Fred, ok? And anyway, you wanna wander around backstage like Spinal Tap for the next - ever?"

"Perhaps there's another room, maybe there'll be answers there. Less… naked answers."

"All we have to do is play the scene. Get in, get out. No one gets happy."

"Thank God Angel didn’t come," he said and she raised an eyebrow, "and yes, I am now aware of how that came out. Shall we move on?"

"Check out the nails," she waved them in front of his face, "you get too out of hand and I'll be drawing blood. Hey, it's awkward, but it's not us. So long as nothing is removed or… inserted, it's all forgotten."

"It is us, Cordy," Wes said, "if something… happens, how do we come back from it? You're my friend, I can't -"

"Oh, come on. It's not that horrible," she rolled her eyes and turned away from him to carry on down the hall, "up to his ass in boring, dusty, old books - fine! But ask him to mack on a hottie and he wigs," she turned to face him, walking backwards as she raised her hands, "the hero, ladies and gentlemen."

"Very funny," he grumbled, shaking his head and following her.

***

Fred twisted in her seat, causing Gunn's hand to slide off her knee. She leaned to one side to whisper in Angel's ear.

"Anything?" she asked, "are they demons?"

"No," he said, "there's something… But I can't see it."

"Wes and Cordy have been gone too long," she whispered.

"I know," Angel nodded, "come on."

Angel stood up with Fred. Gunn followed suit, but frowned, head turned toward the action on stage.

"We're gonna miss the end!" he protested in a low hiss.

"She dies," Angel replied shortly, indicating the prima ballerina.

***  
"Anything?" Wes asked as Cordy paced around the dressing room.

"No," she said, twisting her hands together, "ok, let's take it from the middle… I want you to undress me."

"Wha…? Oh," he nodded, straightened up and went for the low voice from earlier, but it came out slightly strangled, "you want me to have sex with you here? Now?"

"Yes, but I'm scared," she said bluntly.

"You're afraid," he amended, taking a step toward her.

"That too. What if we - he - finds us?"

Wes's hands hovered over her shoulders and with a slight sigh; she grabbed his hands and planted them firmly on her shoulders. Awkwardly, he pulled her close.

"Well, uh, I'm not afraid of anything."

"Only good inside, blah, blah, blah…"

She squeezed her eyes closed and leaned forward a little. He didn’t move. She opened one eye to find him staring at her.

"Kiss me!" she hissed.

"Oh, right," he said, she squeezed her eyes shut again as he pulled her close, brushed his lips over hers briefly and pulled back with an embarrassed cough. They looked at each other, then around the room. 

Nothing.

"Maybe it only works once," Wes suggested, hope creeping into his voice, "the energy might -"

But he was cut off as Cordy pulled him into a passionate kiss.

And suddenly they were back on the couch and he was desperately struggling with her dress as he peppered kisses along her neck.

"This is wrong," she gasped.

"Hush," he replied shortly.

"You don’t know him," she told him, "he has power."

"The power to do this?"

He gave her a wickedly seductive look before trailing the tip of his tongue along her collarbone and then lower as she arched up to him and took a deep breath.

"Stephan," she forced out, "his power is unnatural. He could…"

"What?" Wes asked, pausing long enough to look at her, "kill us?"

"Worse."

"Kurskov owns the company. He doesn’t own you."

"He doesn’t know that," she said, insistence and a vaguely Russian accent easing out her previously breathy tones as she sat up, "he thinks I'm his. That I dance for him. He is nothing but a deluded fan. He thinks I love him."

"Come away with me," he said, running a hand down her arm, "now. Tonight. We'll disappear. Even he won't find us."

"I… Stephan, everything I worked for is here."

"You can still dance," he said firmly.

"Can I?" she replied sadly, meeting his eyes, "I don’t… Not yet… Maybe when we're…"

"Don’t," he cut in, "don’t make promises."

"Help me," she begged, "help me be not afraid."

He leaned in and she willingly sank back down on the couch as he dipped down to her neck again. And she was completely unafraid.

***

Angel had knocked the guard out and he was now walking the halls with Fred and Gunn.

"This is very not right," Gunn said, looking around.

"Do you hear it?" Fred asked.

"Yes," Angel said, turning slightly to find the source of the low moans, "someone's in pain."

"Either that," Fred replied, "or someone's in fun."

***

The dress had been pushed out of the way a little while ago and Wes's tongue was now swirling around Cordy's belly button, making her writhe and moan.

"Oh, no," she gasped. Suddenly her eyes widened and she sat up suddenly, "oh, no!"

"What?" Wes asked, sitting up in time to be knocked to the floor by a insanely grinning demon. 

Cordy peered over the back of the couch and watched as the minion smashed a fist into Wes's chin.

"Oh, thank God!" she cried.

Wes slammed a fist into the demon's stomach and then again into its face, knocking it to one side. He started to get to his feet as Cordy tugged the straps of her dress up onto her shoulders.

"Ok," she said, "so. Good. They were probably interrupted by this Count Kurskov or his lackeys, right? So we're done with the -" she shrieked as Wes jumped toward her.

But he didn’t touch her, just brushed passed her and attacked the minion that was about to tackle Cordy from behind.

Outside, Fred, Gunn and Angel followed the sounds of the fight.

"Now that sounds less like fun," Gunn said as they picked up the pace.

But a minion came up behind him and he cried out in pain as the minion's sword pierced his back from behind.

"Charles!" Fred cried out.

"Fred," Angel said, pulling her away from a sword-wielding minion.

Angel grabbed a prop and whacked the tragedy minion as Gunn crumbled to the floor with a low groan. 

"Angel!" she called out, throwing him the sword.

"Can you -?" but Angel stopped as Fred carried on bashing the life out of the minion, "guess you can."

In the dressing room, Cordy tossed cushions and whatever else she could lay her hands on at a laughing comedy minion while Wes desperately tried to choke the crying tragedy demon he was straddling. 

"Wes! A little help!"

He looked up to see her backed into a corner. He grabbed a heavy silver bowl from the dressing table and smashed it over the tragedy demon's head, knocking it out. He jumped up, grabbing hold of the demon and dragging it back, wrestling the sword from its grasp. He kicked it hard and impaled it on its own sword, quickly jumping over it to stab the knocked out demon through the heart.

"You ok?" he asked Cordy, coming over to her and touching her arm.

"Yeah," she nodded, "we gotta move."

"You don’t think they're dead?" he asked, looking at the demons.

"You just looked really hot doing that."

"I did?" he asked, unable to suppress the blossoming grin.

"Yeah," she said, fingers inching toward him to grasp his jacket.

"Oh," he said, "let's run, shall we?"

He snatched her hand away from his jacket and pulled her out of the room after him.

It took them less than a minute for them to find Angel running another laughing demon through with a sword.

"Angel," Wes called.

Giving the demon a slight kick, Angel approached them

"You ok?" he asked.

"Fine," Cordy answered quickly.

"Where's Fred?" Wes asked, "did she stay behind to keep Gunn company?"

"No," Angel replied, "Gunn was hurt, Fred's taking care of him."

"I'll go check on them," Wes said, leaving Cordy and Angel.

Angel looked at Cordy and suddenly noticed her dishevelled state of her hair and the rumpled creases in her dress. 

And the smell of arousal and sex.

"I'll go too," she said, smiling at him, not noticing the horror growing in his eyes as he started to put two and two together.

As she disappeared down the hall, Angel dropped his sword and sank to his knees.

"No," he breathed.

***

"Wes, where's -" she stopped short behind Wesley.

Over his shoulder, she saw Fred and Gunn engaged in a tender kiss. She heard Wes gulp and exhale hard.

"Oh, God. Wesley, I'm sorry, I thought…"

"It's all right," he said sharply, turning to her with a broad and fake smile that didn’t extend to his shining eyes, "it's fine. I'm fine. Don’t worry."

He walked passed her and she followed him, taking his arm.

"Wesley…"

"Don’t," he whispered, "please, Cordelia, please… Just… don’t."

He clenched his fists tightly; shoulders hunched and head bowed. He took another deep breath and let out a long sigh.

"We'd better check on him," he said, "make sure he's all right."

She smiled at him, rubbed his upper arm and squeezed.

"Yeah," she nodded, walking away from him, letting him follow slowly, "hey, you guys all right?"

"Charles got stabbed," Fred said, smiling at Gunn before looking up at Cordy and Wes. Cordy went over to them and Wes hung back and watched as Cordy checked Gunn's wound.

"Yeah," Gunn said, "a couple of stitches worth."

"That’s who attacked us," Wes said in a flat voice, looking at the dead demons, anywhere but at Fred and Gunn.

"Cordy," Fred whispered, "you're tag's showing."

She tucked the tag away, not noticing the odd look Cordy and Wes exchanged.

"Any idea where we are or what the hell?" Gunn asked.

"Um, yes," Wes answered. This was something he could do. An explanation would be something to focus on; something that wasn’t the coy looks Fred was throwing Gunn, "Cordy and I hit a mystical hotspot in one of the dressing rooms."

"Yeah," Cordy nodded, "it seems the prima ballerina had a lover back in the day. And there was this Count Kurskov who owned the company and I guess he had a thing for the girl and… they were mightily afraid of him."

"He had powers," Wes added.

"He was a wizard."

They looked toward the opening of a hallway where Angel stood; face blank and sword loose in his fingertips. Cordy frowned; something was up with him.

"He was obsessed with the girl," Angel went on, "when he found her with the other man, he went insane with jealous rage… He pulled her out of time, out of any reality beyond his theatre, his company. He swore she would dance for him forever."

"How did you…?" Fred tailed off.

"I…" Angel looked at Cordy, then Wesley, before shrugging, "I hit a hotspot too."

"And now we're stuck here?" Gunn asked.

"Well, ah, this kind of temporal shift can't just exist," Wes said, "it has to be maintained. That requires power and concentration. If we can overload him somehow, we might be able to slip back into the real world."

"The man with the plan!" Gunn grinned.

Any other time and Wes would have smiled, felt proud that he had the plan. But not now. Not after all that had happened with Cordy and he couldn’t quite bring himself to smile at the man who kissed Fred.

"Great," Angel stepped toward them, "so, how do we overload him?"

"Well, I'd imagine that requires some energy," he pointed to a rising minion.

In shock, they watched as it shook and split into two, one sobbing, the other laughing. Cordy shivered at the insane grin and blood chilling cries. Angel grabbed them both in a headlock under each arm and snapped their necks. They hit the floor and immediately split into a new pair of minions.

"The more we kill, the more he makes!" Fred cried out.

"Look!" Cordy pointed a wall that wavered, revealing the modern reality beyond it.

"And it's draining his energy," Wes said, "Angel, try and find a way to the stage. The count will be watching."

Angel was about to protest when another minion bobbed up in the entrance to the hall. He grabbed its head and twisted hard, breaking its neck. He stepped over the body, teeth gritted.

"Find his power centre and destroy it," Wes called after him, "we'll try and loosen his hold."

"By making some more monsters?" Gunn asked, "man with the frightening plan!"

They heard a swish and thud down the hall, then Angel's continuing footsteps.

"Back here," Cordy grabbed Wes's arm to pull him back, "they can't surround us."

Wes grabbed a sword and Cordy took one for herself, handing one to Gunn. Wes placed a hand on Gunn's arm.

"You two," he said, looking from Fred to Gunn and back to Fred again, "stay close together. I'll take point."

"I hope you're in a killing mood," Cordy said, stepping up beside him.

He cast another look back at Fred and Gunn.

"I should do all right," he replied.

And threw himself forward, attacking a minion with almost frightening relish.

***  
He practically dragged himself into the Hyperion that night. He wasn’t aware he had offered to sort out Gunn's wound, but found himself opening the First Aid box without realising he had moved from the main doors.

"I'll have to clean the wound," Angel said, "do you want something for the pain?"

"What pain?" Gunn asked with a smile directed at Fred.

Wes turned away from the scene and walked slowly back into the lobby. He leaned on the counter, head bowed low over his hands.

"Do you think I can still return it?" Cordy asked him, brushing at her dress, "because otherwise we're gonna have to take on a lot more cases."

"Cordy," Wes said slowly, looking up.

"You know, we should probably just not talk about our little adventure," she said, coming around the counter, "anything that might have been seen, anything that might have been, oh," she chuckled, "perky."

"I just want to pretend it never happened," he replied, glancing back toward the office where Fred laughed at something Gunn said.

"Exactly," Cordy nodded.

"Wipe it from my memory," he went on morosely

"What?" Cordy asked, "was it, like, disgusting?"

"What?" Wes looked up, turning around to lean against the counter to face her, "no, I didn’t mean you… I mean, we should forget it, yes, wouldn’t want it to affect us. But I wasn’t really listening… I'm sorry. We'll just forget it ever happened."

"Yeah," she nodded, coming toward him, "I know what you mean, Wes. I'm sorry, I really thought she - Groo?"

"Grew?" Wes asked, "I hadn't noticed any difference in her height."

"Groo!" she cried out again, leaving Wesley to run around the counter.

"Princess!"

"Princess?" Wes repeated, turning to see Cordy leaping into the Groosalug's arms as he descended the stairs.

"Oh, God! I can't believe it!" Cordy shrilled.

Angel, Fred and Gunn left the office and leaned against the counter to watch as Cordy and Groo kissed.

"He just showed up," Lorne explained, crossing the lobby to talk to them, "apparently once everyone in Pylea got their freedom, the political situation got a little sketchy. The Groosalug here got deposed and they set up some kind of people's republic. So he came looking for his," Lorne paused to look at Angel, "true love."

"Huh," Angel nodded, shrugging a little, "that good. Good for her."

"Yeah," Lorne replied, though his expression was sceptical.

"I'm gonna check on Connor," Angel said.

"Ah, he's sleeping," Lorne called after him, but Angel was already across the lobby and climbing the stairs.

"Well, that’s a surprise," Fred said, watching him go before looking at Cordy and Groo again, "I thought for sure she was meant to be with Angel. I guess you never can predict those things," she looked at Wes with a smile that made his chest ache, "you know?"

"No," he replied softly, "I guess you never can."

He watched her back for a moment, before looking at Cordy and Groo.

And the ache in his chest only increased as Cordy kissed Groo again.

 

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a song fic. Yes, the title comes from a song; I have a tendency to do that. I was searching for a title for this fic and while listening to the radio; I heard this song and just thought the lyrics explained what this fic is all about.

Author's Note: This isn't a song fic. Yes, the title comes from a song; I have a tendency to do that. I was searching for a title for this fic and while listening to the radio; I heard this song and just thought the lyrics explained what this fic is all about.

***

Wes hadn't seen Angel for hours. Normally, that wouldn’t have been much of a problem for him. He could talk to Cordy or Fred or discuss the latest Playstation game with Gunn. 

But not anymore.

Fred and Gunn were exchanging doe eyed looks sweet enough to turn his stomach.

Cordy was perched on Groo's lap, smiling as she ran her fingers through his tangle of hair.

And Lorne was no where to be seen, out seeing a client by all accounts. So Wes was left trying not to look too bitter and not stare at the canoodling couples like some perverted Peeping Tom. Not that he wanted to stare at them, he wanted nothing less. It was just he couldn’t seem to look away. Why is it that you can never tear your eyes away from something you really, really don’t want to see?

So after hearing yet another squeal of laughter from Cordelia and a chuckle from Fred, he pushed himself to his feet, leaving the prophecy to the table. He smiled at the couples, feeling stupid and awkward as he passed them. Like he was intruding on something that he had no right being in on.

"Where you going, Wes?" Cordy asked, shifting a little on Groo's lap.

"Uh, just to check on Angel and Connor," Wes said, pointing upstairs.

He frowned at his pointing finger before curling it back into his palm, felt even more like a tosser than usual and climbed the stairs two at a time.

He knocked on the door and leaned heavily against the wall as he waited. He might have burst in, just to avoid the sounds of Cordy, Groo, Fred and Gunn downstairs. But last time he did that, he opened himself up to three nights worth of nightmares in which naked Angel was a running theme. So he waited.

And frowned. Leaning into the door, he heard the thrum of a guitar and a familiar throaty voice. He raised his fist to knock again when the door swung open to reveal a scowling Angel.

"I came to claim sanctuary," Wes said, glancing back toward the lobby, "I don’t think I can stand another minute of the couplet show. I thought you and Connor would be better company."

Angel shrugged and stepped aside, shutting the door as soon as Wes entered the room. Wes paused for a moment to listen to the song playing softly by Connor's crib.

"Wise men say,

Only fools rush in,

But I can't help,

Falling in love with you."

"I didn’t know you was an Elvis fan," Wes said mildly, turning a little to smile at Angel.

The scowl cracked for a moment. Wes was sure that if he could, Angel would have blushed. Instead, he shrugged, lowered his head and shuffled his feet a little.

"Who doesn’t like Elvis?" he replied, "and it calms Connor down."

"Ah, yes. How is he?" Wes asked, strolling toward the crib and leaning over it, smiling at the gurgling baby as he tickled his stomach.

"Fine," Angel said, coming to stand beside Wes to grin at his son, "and you?"

"What about me?" Wes asked, stiffening slightly, hoping that the finger he shook gently to loosen Connor's grip didn’t falter noticeably.

"How're you doing? You've been… weird since the ballet. Two whole days. That's a while, even for you." 

"I'm, uh, just a little tired. These Niazyan scrolls are occupying my mind an awful lot these days."

"You don’t have to work so hard on them," Angel told him, "I know you'll get there in the end. Don’t work yourself up over it. Anyway, I didn’t mean that."

"What did you mean then? You're not normally this cryptic."

"Well, I thought… at the ballet… You and Cordy… And now Groo's back…"

"Angel, you lost me in the middle."

"When we went to the ballet, I know that you and Cordy had a… And I thought that now she's back with Groo, that was why you were acting strange."

"How on earth did you…?" Wes tailed off as Angel tapped his nose, "oh. And here was me thinking that three separate body scrubs would be enough. I knew I should have gone straight home instead of using your shower."

"Mint, vanilla and… almond," Angel frowned, "y'know, I didn’t know I had almond."

"You don’t," Wes replied with an embarrassed shrug, "Cordy keeps it here just in case."

"She does?" Angel answered, "huh. So… What happened between you two?"

"Nothing," Wes said, "not really. It wasn’t us. We went backstage and found the prima ballerina's dressing room. Of course, we would be possessed; it's not like we can ever go out without something happening. So whatever you… smelled, it wasn’t really us," he gave a self conscious chuckle, "I'm not so pathetic as to carry a high school crush for almost four years."

"Oh…" Angel nodded, "and that was how you knew about the prima ballerina's lover?"

He smiled; a long, lazy smile had stretched across his face slowly. 

"Good Lord," Wes teased, "a smile. Now, that’s more frightening than what's going on downstairs," he sighed, "why is it that couples are always so much more irritating when you're on your own?"

"You're not on your own," Angel reminded him, his smile receding a little as he remembered that even if Wes and Cordy weren't going to be a couple, Cordy and Groo most definitely were. He forced another smile as he went on, "you got us. You're our friend and Connor's Uncle Wes."

"As nice as those sentiments are, Angel, I did mean a female companion."

"Tell me about it," Angel gave his son a final grin before crossing the room and sinking into a chair, "I mean, you and me, we're not exactly unattractive, right?"

Wes sat down opposite him, slumping into his chair.

"No," he agreed, "we're not. I, myself, have had a fair bit of female attention."

"Me too," Angel nodded, "and we've got that demon hunter thing going on. That’s still sexy, isn't it?"

"As far as I know," Wes replied, "though, I don’t exactly keep abreast of these things. Y'know, you've got it easier. I hear children are a great attraction for women."

"Yeah, but that involves a stroll in the park in the golden sunshine."

"Ah, yes. That would be a problem."

"And anyway," Angel smiled a little, "I think we've got enough women around with Cordy and Fred."

"Yes," Wes said softly, "yes, we've got enough women."

***

Cordy bounded into his office and froze, eyes wide. She let out a laugh and Wes glared at her.

"I'm trying!" he protested.

"Wes, that’s not how you do a diaper," she said, coming over to the desk and deftly changing Connor's diaper in a matter of seconds, "when did this start? I thought you didn’t like the idea of Connor being changed on your desk?"

Wes sat down as Cordy picked up Connor and twirled him in a little circle, chuckling at his happy gurgles.

"Well, I promised Angel I'd take care of Connor while he and Gunn went after that stool pigeon. I think changing his diaper qualifies as taking care of. And my desk was the closest thing to hand."

"Only you suck at changing diapers," Cordy said, "and anyway, how come he didn’t ask me or Fred to take care of him?"

"Because I am just as capable -" he paused at Cordy's arched eyebrow, "well, almost as capable. And I am his Uncle Wes. And I think he thought you would want to go home early with Groo and that Fred would be ordering in take out for when Gunn got back."

"Uh-huh," Cordy nodded, leaning over the desk to hand Connor to Wes, "so, what were you and Angel plotting earlier?"

"Earlier?" he asked, not looking up as he adjusted his grip on the baby.

"Yeah. When you sneaked off upstairs."

"Oh, we were lamenting our love lives. Or lack of, as the case may be."

There was an uncharacteristic silence. Wes looked up to find that Cordy had seated herself in a chair on the other side of the desk. 

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You know what happened…" she started, "at the ballet."

"Yes," he answered, blushing a little, "I remember."

"Not that," she corrected him, with a little smile, "I meant the Fred thing. Things'll look up, Wesley. Soon, some gorgeous girl will walk into your life and you'll forget all about Fred. You'll fall in love and everything will be rosy."

"Trouble is, all the gorgeous girls that do walk into my life all seem to walk out or choose a close friend. Let's face it, with me, these things never end well."

"So that means that your luck's got to be due a change."

"Perhaps."

Cordy nodded and stood up, turning to leave the office. But she paused, slowly turning back to face Wesley.

"And the other thing," she said, "the you and I thing. We're good, aren't we?"

"Fine, Cordy," he nodded, "absolutely fine."

"So nothing's changed between us then? What happened doesn’t change anything?"

"No," he smiled. 

He watched her leave and sighed, sinking back into his seat. He looked down at Connor, who blew bubbles at him, in what Wes interpreted as morale support. And he really needed some of that.

"No, Connor," he said softly, "of course it doesn’t change a thing."

 

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say something about Cordy's hair. It's my personal opinion that the blonde hair she returned from holiday with in the series looked like a haystack. I thought it was awful and didn’t suit her at all. So in this fic, she'll have the brunette bob with highlights she had in "Waiting In The Wings." I just thought I'd say that because I know some people like to see what they're reading.

Author's Note: I'd just like to say something about Cordy's hair. It's my personal opinion that the blonde hair she returned from holiday with in the series looked like a haystack. I thought it was awful and didn’t suit her at all. So in this fic, she'll have the brunette bob with highlights she had in "Waiting In The Wings." I just thought I'd say that because I know some people like to see what they're reading.

***

"He's wearing my shirt."

"So I noticed."

"Why is he wearing my shirt?"

"You'll have to ask the audience," Wes replied, glancing wryly at Angel before returning his attention to Cordy who was grinning and smoothing said shirt over Groo's broad shoulders. He looked toward Angel again, before saying, "or you could just ask Cordy."

As though she had heard her name, Cordy came over to the counter.

"Doesn’t he look gorgeous?" she sighed, smiling proudly at Groo who was testing how well he could wield a sword in his new outfit.

"That’s a matter of opinion," Wes muttered.

Cordy glared at him, but he was saved from a scathing retort when Angel fidgeted and glowered in Groo's direction who was now poking at his newly short hair.

"Cordy, why is he wearing my shirt?" Angel asked.

"Because it's khaki," Cordy replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. She gave him a "duh," look, but Angel still didn’t get it.

"Huh?" he frowned.

"It's not black," she explained patiently, "you were never gonna wear it."

"I was saving it for a special occasion!" Angel protested.

"Like what? A walk along the beach at noon?"

"No…" he tailed off, trying to think of a special occasion, "Connor's Graduation!" he said, pointing a finger at her in a "Aha!" gesture.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can have it back. He's just wearing that for a shopping trip to go buy him clothes."

"But it's my shirt," Angel almost whined.

"It's khaki, Angel," Cordy replied, "I have nightmares about you in khaki."

She shrugged and left them, grinning at Groo and prying the sword from him.

"Nightmare's about me in khaki," Angel muttered.

"Oh, she's not the only one," Wes replied, "although, for me, it's white instead of khaki."

Angel scowled and smoothed his black shirt, watching Cordy put the sword away and pull Groo toward the doors.

"We're gonna go to the mall to get Groo some new clothes," she called over to them, pausing only to coo at Connor and tickle his stomach as Lorne came down the stairs with him.

"You find your shirt, Angel-cakes?" Lorne asked, handing Connor to him.

"Groo was wearing it," Wes told him.

"Oh," Lorne nodded, "but that makes sense. I mean, the two of you have so much in common, you would have the same shirt size."

"What do we have in common?" Angel asked, exasperated.

"Uh, let me see. Apart from the vampire thing - everything," Lorne replied, "you're both Champions, you've both got the muscular thing going on. Now Cordy's cut his hair, you've got the same hair -"

"My hair does not stick up like that," Angel cut in.

"Do you want to tell him or shall I?" Lorne asked Wes.

"I want nothing to do with it," Wes answered, "I've got a prophecy to translate."

He left the demon and the vampire to bicker over Groo's likeness to Angel and shut the door firmly on them. He sat down slowly and stared at the notes he had already and then at the books. He sighed heavily and reached for one of the heavier books when there was a knock on the door and it opened, Gunn peered round with a smile.

"Hey, English. Thought I'd find you here."

Wes placed the book deliberately before him, then clenched his fists and pressed them hard into the front of the desk. He resisted the urge to childishly tell Gunn to piss off and forced himself to smile. After all, it wasn’t Gunn's fault that Fred chose him. Gunn just got lucky, that was all. Which wasn’t much of a surprise. Considering he was the competition, Wes could quite understand why Gunn got Fred; Wes had never been lucky in his life.

"Hello, Gunn," he said, "what can I do for you?"

"Well, I kinda wanted to ask you a favour," Gunn said sheepishly, sliding into a chair.

"Favour?" Wes asked, "and what would this favour be?"

"Uh, the night off?" Gunn asked, "you being the boss, I thought I'd ask you. If there's not too much going on, I sorta hoped I could take the night off. Fred too."

Of course. Fred and Gunn taking the night off. Wes didn’t even want to think about the implications of this simple request. He didn’t have to, Gunn decided to fill him in.

"I want to take her out," Gunn went on, "y'know, like a real date. I thought I'd take her to the movies and then get her a taco. And I figured that we didn’t really have any cases on right now. And if Cordy has a vision, you and Angel can handle it, right?"

"Of course," Wes nodded, even as a part of him rebelled. No! You can't! Tell him you can't! If he doesn’t take her out on a date, then they're not really dating and you've got your chance. Tell him that there is a new case, you've just a call. Do something! Anything!

But he didn’t. He only nodded and forced a grin at his friend.

"Go out and have fun," he said, amazed at how calm he sounded, "take her to see a comedy, she likes them. Have fun."

"Thanks, Wes," Gunn said, leaping to his feet and going to the door, "and, uh, I know you liked Fred too, but I'm glad it's not affecting us."

"Yes," Wes replied, his throat tightening up, "take care of her. We both know what's out there in the shadows."

"I'll take care of her," Gunn nodded, hand on the door handle, "and thanks again, Wes. You're a good friend."

"The best," Wes mumbled miserably as Gunn left and shut the door behind him.

***

He was awakened by sharp prodding in between his shoulder blades. 

He groaned in protested and lifted his hand to wave it around at whoever was disturbing his peace. A hand grabbed his and he forced his eyes open to see Cordy's blurry shape peering down at him. He sat up and winced, rubbing his neck. Cordy moved behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders and rubbed gently but firmly.

"So, I got Groo a whole new wardrobe. Who knew a guy could look so good in purple?"

"Not me," he replied.

"Groo's back at my place, for a Warrior, he's not got the stamina for shopping. He's still recovering and we've been back for hours. I thought I'd drop in and see how things are going. Lorne's gone out to see a client. Angel's asleep with Connor. Fred and Gunn are nowhere to be found and here you are, sleeping at your desk. Don’t you have a home to go to?"

He could only raise a weak smile at her joke. He wondered when the last time he smiled for real had been. 

"Fred and Gunn have gone out on their first date," he said flatly and was amazed by the level of bitterness in his voice.

Cordy's hands faltered for a second on his shoulders, before resuming their massage. He was grateful for her hands light warmth. It made him believe he was actually there, not just a translating machine stuck in a corner. Good old reliable Wesley who will always be there to do all the bookwork and watch the office while everyone else gets on with their lives. Jeez, that was even more bitter.

"Hey, wanna hear something funny?" Cordy asked after a moment's silence. 

"Go ahead," he said, shrugging.

She continued her massage as she recounted the tale.

"I got this attack alarm ages ago, right? I thought it might come in handy. It looks like a pen and when you pull the lid off, the alarm goes off. I've never used, so it's just in the bottom of my purse. Anyway, a few weeks ago, I was walking to my apartment block and out of nowhere comes this vamp! So obviously, the first thing I do, is open my purse to grab my stake. Only I don’t grab the stake, I pull out the attack alarm by mistake. And the vampire's all like, "I'm gonna bite you so bad." And he came over to me, got me right up against the wall and -"

"Cordelia, where is the funny?"

"It's coming, Mr Impatience. Anyway, he's about to bite me and I really thought that was it. Then - and I really don’t know where this idea came from, guess it's just the good old Chase genius - I pulled the lid off the attack alarm and pushed it into his ear. And we all know how good vampire hearing it, so it must've hurt. So while he's stumbling around, I found my stake and poof! One less vampire to worry about."

"I never knew you had a taste for torture, Cordy," Wes said, smiling.

"Hey, it was him or me," she replied, giving his shoulders a pat, "y'know, it's actually pretty late. How about I make up a bed for you here?"

"No, it's fine, I'll go home."

"But you don’t have your car," she protested.

"I'll walk," he answered, standing up and stretching.

"It's dangerous!"

"Well, it won't be if you lend me your attack alarm."

She hit him lightly in the chest.

"I don’t need to. You're walking me home."

***

He left Cordy at her place a few blocks away. He had paused outside her place and waited until he saw light spill out and heard Groo greet his "Princess," before he continued on his way. 

He rounded a corner, taking a short cut past a group of old warehouses. He shivered a little, glancing around. 

Sometimes, he wondered about his sanity. He really did. He was walking on his own along a street bordered by old warehouses where anything could be hiding. And all he had was a flimsy stake in his jacket pocket. 

He heard an icy screech of a heavy door opening and froze, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He gulped hard, reached for his stake and stopped. He cast his gaze around and grabbed a length of piping leaning against a Dumpster. He crept toward the wire fence and nudged the gate. It swung open with a faint squeak. He slipped inside, silently chanting that this was stupid. He should call Angel, or at least get a better weapon than a short strip of piping. 

But he carried on forward. Some tiny part of him saying that none of them would think he was good old reliable Wesley if they saw him now, creeping silently toward the rusting corrugated iron that covered one window. He approached it slowly and as quietly as possible. Then was a sound behind him and he spun around, the piping held before him. A cat hissed in fright and scuttled away as he let out a sigh of relief, cursing his own foolishness.

He leaned toward a split in the corrugated iron and squeezed one eye shut to see better.

The room inside was large and dimly lit. It was filled by tall, lumpy figures who were slightly stooped. One passed through a chink of light and Wes stepped back in surprise. 

Demons, yes, no surprise there. But demons made up of what appeared to be rocks.

He turned quickly and jogged toward the fencing, he slipped out and turned back to the route back to the hotel, still gripping the piping.

 

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hopeless at writing Groo, but I have to have him in at some point. So sorry if my Groo is the most awful thing ever, if anyone's got any tips on writing Groo, I'd be grateful for them. Long chapter here, there was a lot I wanted to get in and I thought a long chapter would make up for the lack of updates.

Author's Note: I'm hopeless at writing Groo, but I have to have him in at some point. So sorry if my Groo is the most awful thing ever, if anyone's got any tips on writing Groo, I'd be grateful for them. Long chapter here, there was a lot I wanted to get in and I thought a long chapter would make up for the lack of updates. 

***

Cordy struggled up, forcing her eyes open as she reached blindly for the phone. Her hand missed it and hit the bedside table and she groaned. But then she smiled, as Groo delivered the phone into her hand.

"What?" she asked. She didn’t care if it was rude. The only people who ever called her these days were the guys at the hotel. 

"Good morning to you too, Cordelia," Wes replied.

"Morning?" she repeated incredulously, peering at her clock, "it's five thirty, Wesley! How is this morning?"

"Believe me, I would be the last person to volunteer to wake you up in the morning, but we have a problem."

"When are you going to call me to offer me a meal or a trip to the cinema, huh? Otherwise, I'll start to think you don’t care."

"I'm not in the mood for a guilt trip, Cordy," Wes replied wearily, "I've had barely two hours sleep. Do you think you and Groo can get over here as soon as possible?"

"Why? What's this problem?"

"I found a lair of demons on my way home last night. I came straight back to the hotel and did a little research. They're made out of rocks and there are quite a few of them, we need all of us on this."

"Got ya," she nodded, "we'll be there as soon as we can."

"Thank you," Wes replied, "sorry for waking you."

"Goes with the territory. See ya, Wesley."

"Yeah, see you."

Cordy replaced the phone and stood up. Groo watched her and sat up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"We've got a sitch, Groo, honey," she said, "Wes found a lair of rock demons that we have to go and kill now."

"Oh, I see," Groo grinned and nodded, "then we must go and slay the monsters, Princess."

His eager smile made Cordy chuckle and she leaned across the bed to kiss him.

"I love you, Groo."

***

Wesley tapped the pen in his hand and rubbed his forehead. He had barely had two hours sleep since he returned to the hotel last night. 

He glanced to his left and rolled his eyes. Angel was slumped forward over the books, mumbling something about the best schools in the area. As he looked away, Fred caught his eye and smiled at him, glancing at Angel. Wesley returned the smile, opening his mouth to say something - hopefully something witty and meaningful - when Gunn walked in, carrying two paper bags and a tray of drinks.

"I got breakfast," he announced, setting the drinks in front of Wesley before turning to kiss Fred.

Wes blinked and returned his gaze to the books.

"I don’t know how you can call it breakfast," Fred mused, taking the pack of takeaway pancakes from Gunn, "it's not like we've slept at all tonight."

"Ah, yes, sorry about that," Wes said.

"Don’t worry about it," Gunn replied, pulling a coffee out of the tray and handing it to Wesley, "you want pancakes? I got a whole batch. You got no idea how much this girl can put away."

He cast Fred an adoring smile that put Wes's teeth on edge. He shrugged.

"I had some toast earlier," Wes replied testily, bowing his head again.

"We got a toaster?"

Angel jumped at the sound of Cordy's voice.

"I wasn’t asleep," he said, smiling at Cordy. But his smile disappeared as Groo followed Cordy into the office, "you brought Groo."

"Well, yeah," Cordy answered with a shrug, "just in case it's gets too sunny for you."

"Of course," Angel mumbled sullenly.

"Guys!" Fred cried, dropping the pancake back onto the polystyrene tray, "I think I got it."

Wes jumped up and went around the desk to look at the computer screen.

"Yes, that’s what I saw," Wes nodded, casting his eyes over the details below the picture, "you wouldn’t think it would take all night to find a rock demon."

"Yeah, but there's so many different types," Fred said, "there are some that feed on rocks, some that have arms made of rocks which they use as weapons. But this is the only one made entirely of rocks."

"And how do we kill 'em?" Cordy asked, stealing a sip from Wesley's untouched coffee.

"Well, we could keep them up all night then steal their coffee," Wes said pointedly, "but I think your standard decapitation will do the trick."

"Then let us go!" Groo said, bobbing on the balls of his feet.

There was a wail from upstairs and Angel glanced up.

"Lorne's been keeping an eye on Connor," he said, "I should go. I'll be back in a minute."

"No, I'll go," Fred said, closing down her laptop and standing up, stretching, "you guys go do the fighting, I'll take care of Connor."

"Sure?" Angel asked, as they floated out into the lobby, Groo leading the way toward the weapons cabinet.

"Of course," Fred answered, "I'll go get him. Tell him his daddy's gone to be a hero."

"Thanks," Angel said distractedly, scowling at Groo who was weighing Angel's favourite sword in his hand.

Fred shrugged and turned toward the stairs, but Gunn caught her wrist and pulled her giggling into his arms for a farewell kiss. Cordy looked toward Wes who was studying the engraving wrapped around the handle of a small axe intensely. She saw him look up in the direction of Fred and Gunn. She waited for a reaction. 

Any reaction at all. 

Jealously. Sadness. Anger. Hatred. 

But there was nothing. His expression was empty.

***

They crept quietly into the warehouse, easing through the rusted door as quietly as possible. Groo and Angel took the lead, Groo bent into a tense fighting posture as his gaze swung around. Angel rolled his eyes and pulled a face at Groo as pulled his leather jacket from over his head and he strolled leisurely just behind Groo, though he was alert and ready. 

Angel patted a smoking patch on the sleeve of his jacket and took a quick assessment of the area. Boarding covered the windows, so there was little of the just dawned sunshine

There was a grunt from the distant shadows and Angel turned in time to decapitate a demon that launched at him. They had a moment to stare at the large, long limbed demon, comprised entirely of rocks that oozed green liquid from where it's head should have been. Then the rest of the clan descended on them, using their heavy arms as weapons.

Angel kept an eye on Cordelia, though he was well aware that Groo would be doing the same. He caught a heavy stone fist and swung the sword around the hack the head off the demon. As the demon crumpled, he saw Wes backing into a wall. Angel jumped over the body and raced toward Wesley, who he couldn’t see behind the towering demon. As he reached him, the head tumbled to one side to reveal Wesley gasping, wiping at a bloodied cheek.

"I was gonna help you," Angel said, a little stunned.

"Appreciate it," Wes replied, touching his cheek and wincing, "could have done with your help a couple of minutes ago though, but - duck!"

Angel and Wesley ducked and the heavy fist rammed itself into the wall. Angel straightened and grabbed the back of the head to slam it into the wall. He looked around for Wes, but saw him running to the other end of the warehouse. Thankfully, he didn’t see why.

Cordelia had been backed into a wall, she was keeping the demon at bay with wild slashing, but it didn’t do anything. The weakest part of the demon's body was where the head joined to the body, but she had no room to swing her sword up without hitting herself. It was pressing forward, gurgling. 

Gripping the sword in one hand, she dug into her pocket for the attack alarm she kept handy ever since she used it on a vampire. She pulled the lid off with her teeth and immediately, an ear-splitting shriek cut through the air. She lowered her sword a little and took advantage of the demon's dumbfounded expression to jump up and ram the alarm into the hole in the side of its head, which she assumed was its ear. It emitted a low moan and pressed into her tightly, only this time, it lacked menace. 

"Ok, nice, rock demon," she said, her voice wavering a little.

It moaned again and to Cordy's horror, she felt something growing and shifting against her leg. Her eyes widened and she almost giggled hysterically. 

"Oh, that’s nice," she said, "but I'm seeing someone. Maybe if you just give me your number…"

The demon seemed to notice that she wasn’t exactly flattered by its attentions and it growled. But she was saved from further torture by a sword slicing through its neck and sending its head flying. Cordy pushed immediately away from the wall, pushing her hair back and gasping for breath. She waved her sword at it and glared.

"Wanna get laid?" she asked the dead body, "crawl up a chicken's ass and wait!"

Wes, who had been looking around at the others who were taking down the final members of the demon clan, turned back to her with an expression of astonishment.

"Cordelia!" he exclaimed in a low voice, extending his hand for her to take to climb over the body, "that was on one of those key rings! I remember reading it when you decided we should get Angel a present for when he got back from Sri Lanka. Is that where you get all your come-backs?" 

Cordy lowered her gaze and shrugged.

"Well, I don’t have as much time as I used to!" she answered hotly as Wes gripped his side, laughing.

Angel, Gunn and Groo ran over to them now that the rest of the clan had been dispatched. Angel and Gunn stared at Wes who was bent double, heaving gasping for breath through his laughter. Gunn chuckled and patted Wesley's back as Angel stared blankly at Groo as he bundled Cordy into arms, checking for injuries, blaming himself for not protecting his "Princess."

Angel had the distinct impression that Cordy enjoyed the attentions.

***

It was a few hours before dusk when Wes opened his eyes and yawned. He had collapsed into a hotel bed as soon as they got back to the Hyperion. He sat up; frowning at the sheet that had been placed over him and at the absence of his shoes. He rubbed his eyes and put his glasses on, rubbing his fingers through his hair. He stood up, stretching and bent to grab his shoes. He shuffled out of the room, rubbing his stomach, which growled in hunger. 

He should get home, it was getting late and he was craving a cup of tea. Nice as Cordy's coffee machine was - well, at least that’s what he told her - he much preferred a decent Earl Grey.

He passed Fred's door and wondered if she was awake, if she was, he could tell her he was going and ask her to let the others know. That would be a good excuse surely. He leaned against the wall, pulling his shoes on.

"Hello, Fred, hope I didn’t wake you… No, fine… Um, I'll be going… home," he muttered, going over what he would say as he straightened his shirt and tapped lightly on the door.

He eased it open gently and blinked in the gloom created by tightly drawn thick curtains.

"Uh, Fred?"

There was a slurping sound and he saw two shadowy figures pull apart. His heart plummeted into his stomach and he tightened his grip on the handle of the door. Well, wasn’t he just the master of great timing?

"Sorry," he said hastily, "I thought you'd be… awake. I just wanted to ask you to let Angel know I'd gone home."

"Um, right," he heard Fred say and was practically certain he could hear her blush in her voice, "we'll tell him."

"Thank you," he said, shutting the door and walking quickly down the corridor.

He stopped at the end of the hall, just before the stairs and braced himself against the wall, drawing a long breath.

He really, really needed a drink. And he didn’t think Earl Grey was going to do the trick this time.

***

Cordy wasn’t interested in the movie Groo had chosen. It was a romance, though thankfully not a comedy so she didn’t have to laugh along. She stared at the screen, but she didn’t really care if that guy got it on with that girl or not. She was still reeling over Wes's reaction to Fred and Gunn before they went to kill the rock demons. 

Or his non-reaction, as he had stared at them so blankly that Cordy wondered if he had actually seen them. 

She shifted a little in her seat, the memory making her uncomfortable. There was a time he would have spoken to her about this and if she thought about it, he talked to her about just about anything right up until the ballet. Which meant that he blamed her, right? If she hadn't encouraged him over Fred then maybe he wouldn’t have got so badly hurt. That was her fault. She slid miserably down the seat and sighed. Groo cast her a look, but decided she was being affected by the movie and thankfully didn’t say anything.

Maybe it was because he was English, she thought suddenly. The English were always big with the hiding emotions. She had known him to do it, that was just the way Wesley was. She nibbled her lip, I thought he was getting over it. Opening up a lot more. Guess I was wrong.

She sat upright and reached for her purse. 

"Where are you going?" Groo asked, as she got up from the couch, "have you had a vision? Is there trouble afoot?"

"No, Groo, honey," she said, pushing him gently back onto the couch as he attempted to get up, "I'm just going to see Wesley, ok?"

"Why?" he asked, frowning.

"Because he's been a little on the low side lately. I want to make sure he's all right."

"My Princess is too kind," he smiled, "I will accompany you."

"No, it's all right. Angel sent us home to watch a movie, you do that. It's still light and it's not far, I'll walk," she bent toward him and kissed him quickly on the lips, "I won't be long."

***

It took him a while to realise that the thumping wasn’t coming from his drunken state. Not that he was very drunk, only just a little tipsy, as a matter of fact. But Cordy's voice sounded shrill nonetheless.

"Wesley, you in there? Open up if you are," her voice dropped to a low, but still audible mutter, "great, now I've gotta go to the hotel. That’s if he's even there."

He grabbed the handle of the door and wrenched it open, grabbing the door with a giggle as he stumbled. Cordy blinked at him, eyebrows rising.

"Oh my God," she said, coming inside and grabbing hold of him to hold him up as she kicked the door shut, "you're drunk! I knew you weren't dealing. Is this how you cope? 'Cause let me tell you, alcoholism isn't the way, Wes."

"But it's a fun way," he replied as she bundled him onto the couch, snatching the bottle of beer away from his grasping fingers, "why are you here?"

She didn’t answer as she went into the kitchen and returned with a bag. She swept the crushed cans of beer into the bag and then picked up the half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's and went to pour it down the sink.

"I came to see how you were," she said finally, folding her arms as she stood before him, "good thing too, I think your liver will thank me, even if you won't."

"I will," he nodded, "just give me a minute," he pressed a hand to his mouth and groaned.

"You're really having one of those days, aren't you?" she sighed, sitting beside him and rubbing his back, "up all night, seeing the girl you love with one of your closest friends, big fight, big laughter at my expense and now the big drowning of big sorrows."

"Yes, thank you, Cordelia," he muttered, "I needed it all spelled out in glorious detail. You're a big help."

"Hey, that’s good. You're reacting. This is good, ok? But how about we talk instead of getting drunk? You'll only suffer tomorrow, y'know. And I remember how grumpy you were last time you go drunk."

He chuckled.

"I don’t think you can talk."

"No," she shrugged, "but you should. You're hurting, I get that and I guess that's partly my fault… But you should talk."

"'S'not your fault," he mumbled, patting her knee with clumsy fingers as he hiccuped, "'s'mine. Shouldn’t have got my hopes up."

"Why not?" she demanded hotly, "you have as much right to be happy as Gunn. And you'll -"

"If you're going to tell me again that some gorgeous girl will come in and we'll fall in love and everything will be like some Meg Ryan film, please save your breath. I've heard it and it made little difference then. But, please, if you've got anything new to add, I'll be pleased to hear it."

He sniffled and stared miserably into the distance. Cordy forced a laugh and hugged him lightly around the shoulders.

"C'mon, cheer up, Wes. You got me."

He turned to her and she swallowed as something changed. She wasn’t sure what changed, all she knew was that the drunkenness seemed to clear a little to be replaced with… She swallowed hard again.

"I know," he said in a low voice, reaching up to stroke her cheek.

"Wesley…" she protested quietly.

He eased her back against the couch and against her will, she remembered him doing the same thing that night at the ballet. She pressed her hands against his chest and gave a gently push, but she didn’t try hard enough and he bent down and brushed his lips against hers.

 

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to answer the question that was emailed to me: yes. The reference Wesley made to Angel's vanilla body scrub in Chapter 2 was a Buffy thing. I know it's never been said on the show, but I think it's a general consensus amongst fic writers that Buffy's favourite scent is vanilla. So the reference to the vanilla body scrub is Angel's way of remembering Buffy.

Author's Note: Just to answer the question that was emailed to me: yes. The reference Wesley made to Angel's vanilla body scrub in Chapter 2 was a Buffy thing. I know it's never been said on the show, but I think it's a general consensus amongst fic writers that Buffy's favourite scent is vanilla. So the reference to the vanilla body scrub is Angel's way of remembering Buffy.

***

Cordy froze, felt the gentle, friendly kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed and she felt the lips leave hers and waited for them to descend again. The hand gently massaging her neck slipped down a little, the other hand easing around her to pull her closer. 

"I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of anything."

"I'm only alive when you're inside me."

"Wesley," she finally gasped out, opening her eyes.

"Mmmm?" he answered, dropping a shower of tiny kisses onto her shoulder.

"Stop," she stated firmly.

He froze, then slowly straightened up. He blinked and she saw his drunkenness drain from his face along with the blood, leaving him white and shaking. 

"Oh, God," he muttered, leaping away from her, "oh, no."

"It's ok," she soothed, snapping her hand back from reaching out to pat his back. She rubbed her bare shoulder, trying to rub away the feeling of his lips on her skin. He hadn't moved and she tried again, "it's fine, Wesley. Don’t worry. You're drunk."

"Two beers and two whiskey shots, Cordelia," he replied, anguished, "I'm not that far gone. And this time I can't even blame possession."

"Wesley -"

"Don’t," he snapped, "you'll only make me feel more of a fool. Go home, Cordelia."

The "Cordelia" stung her. He had given up on "Cordelia" a long time ago. Oh, God, what happened to "Cordy"?

"I'm not going home and leaving you like this," she protested, grabbing his hand and squeezing it between both of hers.

"Yes, you are," he said, sighing heavily. He glanced at their hands entwined on Cordy's knee and gave her hand a gentle pat before pulling his own hand away, "listen to me. Back at your place, you've got a decent young man who adores you. A young man… A young man you love too. All you've got here is a whiskey soaked misery. So, go on home. I'm fine. Really. Go on, Cordy."

"But, Wesley -"

"Please!"

His voice was strained and Cordy bit her lip. She bowed her head and took a deep breath, tucking her hair behind her ears and looking up, forcing a smile.

"Ok," she nodded, "ok. I'll just…" she took a deep, steadying breath, "go."

He nodded, a detached toss of the head from between slumped shoulders. Cordy grabbed her purse and felt her entire body tremble as she went to the door. She heard Wesley pull himself to his feet. But it was less him being polite and more him making sure she actually left. She risked a glance back, but he was leaning against the wall at the end of the hall leading into the main room. She pulled the door open and stepped out, felt his hand take the door from her and close it gently behind him. 

She was halfway down the hall when she heard the dull thud of Wesley slumping against his front door.

***

"Cordelia."

She jumped, spinning round with a yelp, falling into a defensive posture that Angel had taught her, searching the shadows. A tall figure stepped towards her and she felt every nerve jangle with relief as she recognised Groo's chiselled features. 

"Groo, honey, you scared me!" she breathed, shrugging her shoulders to ease the tension. She glanced up at Wesley's window, feeling guilt swirl into her stomach, as cold as ice.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, Princess," Groo said gently, coming towards her, reaching his hand out to her. 

She took his hand and smiled widely at him, allowing him to lead her back to her apartment. 

For some odd reason, she suddenly noticed that Groo's fingers, although long, weren't slim. They were thick, broad. Strong fingers, a warrior's fingers. 

Wesley's fingers were long and thin, gentle as he stroked a finger over a book before turning a page. She could even conjure up an image of his fingers wrapping around the hilt of a sword. And, with a blush, she remembered how delicately his fingers skimmed over her dress, before reaching for the zipper…

Groo noted the direction of her gaze and lifted her hand to kiss it. She leaned her head against his shoulders to avoid any eye contact. She reached up to rub her shoulder again. She could still feel the heated tenderness of Wesley's gentle kisses, even while the imprint of Groo's kiss faded. 

She took a deep breath and nibbled her lip, forcing out every ballet-related memory from her mind. She glanced at Groo, impulsively pulling him down into a kiss.

She had it all. A great apartment, a great job, great friends, a great boyfriend. 

Everything was just… great.

***

Angel frowned, straightening up slowly as he listened to the sounds coming from Wesley's office. He picked up his mug of blood and left the kitchen, going to Wesley's office.

Where he found Wesley with his head buried in his books, scribbling on a bit of paper. 

"Wesley?"

Wesley looked up sharply, reaching for a cup of coffee as he did so. Angel took a subtle sniff and caught the faint traces of alcohol drowned by coffee, dusty books and the delicate aroma of perfume. 

"Angel," Wesley nodded, forcing a smile and nodding toward the pad of paper in front of him, "I thought I'd get an early start."

"Very early," Angel agreed.

"Didn’t mean to wake you," Wesley said absently, bending over his work again.

"You didn’t. I was up anyway. Kinda hungry."

"Mmm hmmm," Wesley nodded, though he was clearly hardly listening. When Angel didn’t leave, Wesley looked up; "did you want a progress report?"

"On the prophecy?" Angel asked, interest piqued, sliding into a chair, "you've got an actual translation?"

"Well, some of an actual translation," Wesley said, sliding the pad toward Angel.

Angel peered at the scribbling. Black pen scrawled across the top of the page, possible interpretations, possible languages, things to check up on. Then, at the bottom, in clear, confident letters, were the words, The Father.

"That’s me!" Angel said excitedly, pointing to the words, setting the mug of blood down beside Wesley's mug of coffee, "the father, that’s me!"

"Yes," Wesley nodded.

"So what does it say about me? Does it say me and Connor are going to be a good team?" Angel leaned across the desk to look at the books.

"I'm not sure yet," Wes answered, "I'll be sure to let you know as soon as possible."

"Then I'll let you get on with it," Angel nodded, "and you can wake me up if you find anything. I don’t mind."

Wes almost smiled at the vampire's exuberance and Angel grinned as he left Wes to his work. 

Not taking his eyes off a possible reference to the prophecy, Wes reached for his mug. 

And spluttered as he tasted the sickeningly familiar tang of blood. He leapt back, jumping up, knocking his chair open. He wiped his mouth in disgust and shuddered in revulsion.

So caught up in his disgust, Wes didn’t hear the door of the basement ease open. And he was too busy sighing over his blood stained shirt to noticed the tall forms silently approaching the door of his office. He froze, hands gripping the hem of his shirt when he heard the scraping thud just outside his door. He reached for a hefty ornament being used as a paperweight and gripped it hard. The door eased open and Wes met the cold grey eyes of the rock demon and lifted the paperweight.

He brought it crashing down on the demon's head as the demon lunged and grabbed his arm. The weight cracked, but the demon slumped gurgling across the desk. Wes raised the weight again as he faced the second demon, quickly weighing up his chances of getting past it to the weapons cabinet and calling for Angel before he was battered to death. 

His chances didn’t look too good, but if the paperweight could knock one out, surely it could do the same to the second? 

He skirted the desk, approaching the demon, raising the weight. The demon's hand knocked his strike off course and slammed it into the wall. He cried out and tightened his grip on the weight.

And he would have had a good shot at the demon.

If the other one hadn't come to and cracked a stone fist over his head, knocking him unconscious and off his feet.

With low chuckles, one demon grabbed Wesley's feet and the other his shoulders and carried him out into the lobby, toward the basement. 

The door of the basement clicked shut as Angel leapt down the stairs, alerted by the sounds of fighting. He ran into Wesley's office, his gaze quickly taking in the cracked paperweight on the floor, the scattered books and papers.

And the pure white sheet lying in the middle of the floor.

The Father…

 

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first update of this fic for 2004! Im really sorry about the long wait, but I was having a hard time working on both this and Escape. So I thought Id shelve this til I finished Escape. Its finished now and Ive planned out this fic. So the updates might be slow coming because of my exams, but theyll be there!

Author's Note: My first update of this fic for 2004! I’m really sorry about the long wait, but I was having a hard time working on both this and Escape. So I thought I’d shelve this ‘til I finished Escape. It’s finished now and I’ve planned out this fic. So the updates might be slow coming because of my exams, but they’ll be there!

Anyway, this chapter clears up what happened at the end of the last chapter. But the real action will come later in the fic. What, you didn’t think I’d forgotten about the prophecy had you? Oh, and the dialogue used at the end comes from Graduation Day Part 2.

***

“Cordy?” Angel’s voice on the answer phone, broken with urgency and panic brought Cordy shuffling from her kitchen into the living room. She was reaching for the phone, when Angel went on, “Cordy, this is important. It’s Wesley.”

She snatched the phone up, pressing it tightly to her ear.

“What?” she demanded, “what’s happened? What’s wrong with Wesley? Is he all right?”

“I don’t know,” Angel answered, sounding relieved to have reached her, “he was in the office working this morning and I went back upstairs. Then I heard a fight, but by time I got downstairs, he’d gone.”

“Gone?” Cordy repeated, sinking into a chair, “gone?”

“We think it was the rock demons. We’re getting ready to go back to the warehouse. We needed backup,” it sounded like he gritted his teeth before asking, “can you bring Groo?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Cordy nodded decisively, standing up, “Angel?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think… do you think he’ll be all right?”

“Hey,” Angel said gently, trying to reassure her, “this is Wesley. He’s tough. He’ll live to annoy you another day. He’ll be ok.”

“I know,” Cordy replied, with mock certainty, “I’ll see you in a little while, Angel.”

She set the phone down and grabbed the chair to steady herself. What if he wasn’t all right? He wasn’t Angel and if they tortured him, he wouldn’t be able to stand it, would he?

She shook her head, remembering a grimly determined Slayer who had tortured Wesley before. He lived to tell the tale then, he’d do it again.

“Groo?” she called, “Groo, get ready, we’ve got to get to the hotel. Wesley’s been kidnapped.”

Groo appeared in the doorway, heard the distress in Cordy’s voice and hastened to get ready. Cordy walked to the bathroom, swallowing her fear and clenching her jaw against tears.

If Wesley isn’t all right…

***

“Lovely place you’ve got here,” Wes said, teeth chattering against the cold of the stone dungeon, “really nice. Funny the places you find under warehouses, isn’t it?”

His grin wobbled as the demons glared at him. There were three, but he figured he need only be afraid of two, since one was obviously elderly and trembled whenever he attempted to stand stood.

Wes’s head throbbed and his let it fall forward onto his chest as he swallowed and gave the chains a weak tug. He had come round as they entered the warehouse and he struggled in vain as crates were pushed aside and a trapdoor was opened, earning himself bloodied knuckles for his trouble. He had been chained to a damp stone wall for what felt like forever, with water dripping through the roof onto his hair, chilling him and driving him mad. If they didn’t kill him soon, he would probably end up dying of pneumonia. 

“What is it exactly that you want?” he asked, lifting his head to look at the demons, “a sacrifice? Because I’m not the purest chap you could find. But if you’re going to do this, could you get the hell on with it before this bloody dripping soaks me to my boxers?” his voice rose in anger and he struggled in his bonds.

The elder gurgled in indignation, glancing at the younger demons.

“Your fault,” the youngest of the two said, pointing at Wesley.

“You kill,” the other added in rough English.

“Kill?” Wes repeated, frowning, “I didn’t kill anyone… Oh!” he shook his head and smiled in relief, “I understand. You think I killed your clan.”

The elder nodded, fixing Wesley with an accusing glare. Wes gulped, tilting his head out of the drip, so that instead of falling on his head, it trickled down his neck.

“Well, admittedly, I was involved,” he said, “but I didn’t kill everyone. And y’know, I think you’ve got your revenge. Humans have a thing about water dripping on them. It’s like torture. So you could just let me go.” 

“No!” the elder snapped hoarsely.

“Stay,” one of the younger demons said.

“Die,” the other one added.

Wes sighed, slumping his in chains. So this was it. He was going to be killed by an old age pensioner of a demon and two intellectually challenged adolescents. He probably wouldn’t ever be found, he would just rot here. He doubted anyone would notice. Angel was too busy with Connor, Lorne too busy with clients and Fred and Gunn too busy with each other.

And Cordy… Well, she had Groo; she wouldn’t notice he had gone.

In fact, none of them would notice until something needed translating or researching. He sniffled, shivering and miserable, scared but unwilling to show it. 

They would never find him. They would never get there in time. How would they find this place? He glanced up at the demons.

“So when am I to die?” he asked, slightly annoyed. Of course, he would eventually be murdered by the demons that were too lazy to get on with it. 

“When moon rise,” the youngest demon rumbled.

Craning his head to look at his watch, Wes almost cried in frustration. That was hours away and until then, he was stuck with demons that were obviously as thick as two short planks and by the time the moon rose, he’d be soaked to the skin with stagnated water. It was that indignity that Wesley couldn’t bear. At the very least they could give him some ritualistic robes, tie him to a dry slab and commence a bloodletting at least, so that he had something to focus on. Where had the standards of demons gone?

He closed his eyes, feeling the throbbing in his head grow as he leaned it against his arm. He looked up sharply as the two younger demons stood up suddenly.

The elder let out a high pitched squeal similar to that of Cordelia’s attack alarm.

“What?” he asked, hardly expecting an answer, “what’s going on?”

The youngest demon had disappeared and its companion was following when there was a thud. Wes blinked, watching the small entrance at the bottom of the tiny staircase. There were several more thuds and the demon leapt back with a cry as the head of its comrade rolled onto the floor, stopping to stare blankly at Wes. 

Wes grinned, looking up as Angel appeared at the bottom of the stairs, followed by Groo, Gunn and to his surprise, Cordelia.

“Wesley!” she cried, dodging past the men that faced the elder and the younger demon to get to him.

“Cordy,” Wes breathed, relief flooding his limbs.

“You ok?” she asked, grabbing hold of him by the front of his damp shirt, “God, you must be freezing!”

“No, I’m… quite… all right,” he murmured, as the pain in his head increased and he shuddered and fell against her in a dead faint.

***

The world was a blur when Wes awoke. But it was a soft, comfortable, dry and warm blur and his groan was there for sympathy rather than real discomfort.

A hand touched his face, feeling his head and brushing his hair back. He blinked, seeing something sway in and out of his line of vision. He reached out one arm, scrabbling for the bedside table where his glasses ought to have been. But there was no table and he struggled to sit up. Soft, gentle hands pressed him back and seconds later, placed his glasses on his nose.

“Cordelia?” he asked, peering at her.

“Yeah,” she answered shortly, getting up off the bed and crossing the room to where the clothes he had been wearing lay folded neatly on a chair. 

Slightly worried by that, Wes glanced under the covers and heaved a sigh of relief to find himself fully clothed, ignoring the fact that he most certainly hadn’t changed himself, which meant someone had.

“Where am I?” he asked, looking round a room which definitely wasn’t his room in his apartment.

“You’re at the hotel,” Cordy said, “the doc says you’ll be ok.”

“Doc?”

“A friend of Angel’s,” Cordy said, “we thought you oughta be checked out. Anyway, you’re staying here tonight. Fred got some clothes from your apartment.”

Wes didn’t answer, only snuggled deeper into the warm comfort of the bed. She was moving around the room again, arranging another pile of clothes and checking for dust on any available surface. 

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Me?” she said, her voice pitched a little too high, “I’m fine!”

He started to sit up, batting her away when she came towards him and tried to make him lie down again. 

“No, you’re not,” he stated, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m…” she stopped, her smile faltering and slowly fading, before she admitted in a soft voice, “I was scared.”

“Scared?” he asked, genuinely confused “of what?”

“That something might have happened to you,” she answered.

He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Something did happen to me,” he reminded her, “something that I should have been able to handle myself.”

“They were huge, Wes!” she protested, “you had no backup!”

“Yes, well, I could have fought harder.” 

“You were unconscious,” she snapped before lowering her gaze, looking away from him.

“I’m all right now, you know,” he said in a low voice, giving her hand another squeeze.

“I know,” she replied, looking up at him, “I’d better tell the others you’re awake. They’ve been worried too.”

“Ok,” he patted her hand and slid back down into the bed, smoothing the bed clothes and shooting her a smug smile. 

She rolled her eyes; she should have known he’d enjoy the pampering.

“He’s awake,” she told the group gathered outside the door in a low voice, “awake and as annoying as always. Angel,” she looked at the vampire, who face had relaxed in relief, “can I stay here tonight?” 

“Stay, Princess?” Groo asked, before Angel could answer.

“I’d like to be here,” Cordy said, glancing from Groo to Angel, “I know you guys can look after him, but I’d like to stay anyway."

“Sure,” Angel nodded, “you can have to room next door. Think I can go in and see him?”

“I think he’d like that,” Cordy nodded.

“I’ll get some sheets for your bed, Cordy,” Fred said, leaving the group, “then I’ll make Wes some tea.”

“Ol’ Blue Eyes had us worried that time,” Lorne said, shaking his head, “we shoulda known he’d be all right. He’s stubborn if nothing else.”

Gunn nodded in agreement and wandered off after Fred, followed by Lorne. Cordy looked at Groo. 

“You don’t mind if I stay?” she asked.

“No,” he smiled sweetly and shook his head, “it is good that my Princess cares so much.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, as Cordy forced a smile in return.

***

“… Right, you’ve got your reading light, your choice of books, your hot chocolate and your painkillers,” Cordy placed each item on the table she had placed beside Wesley’s bed. She frowned at them, “am I forgetting something?”

“Just the kitchen sink,” Wes joked gently.

“He’s got everything he needs, haven’t you, Wes?” Fred asked, smiling at Wes from the end of his bed.

“She’s quite right,” he said gently to Cordy, “why don’t you go to bed? You could use some sleep. We’ve all been up a lot the last couple of days.”

Cordy gave him a shrewd look, decided he wasn’t just trying to get rid of her and nodded. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and backed away. 

“Goodnight, Wes,” she said.

Fred, Gunn, Lorne and Angel with Connor in his arms drifted back toward the door, among choruses of “Night, Wes.” Fred took Connor from Angel and gently waved Connor’s chubby hand at Wes, who couldn’t resist a smile and a wave in return.

“Get some rest,” Angel said firmly, the only evidence of his worry, “we need the Boss back.”

“I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. I don’t need any fuss,” he added, looking pointedly at Cordelia who lingered behind the others with Angel.

“Who’s fussing?” she asked, tossing her hair, “I’m not fussing.”

With that, she strode out of the room, Wes and Angel shared a look and Angel followed, leaving Wes alone with a book, a mug of hot chocolate and a bottle of painkillers.

***

Cordy yawned, the non-stop action of the past few days catching up with her. She rubbed her neck as she closed the door of the room next to Wesley’s. She turned in the direction of the en-suite bathroom, but jumped in surprise when she noticed someone in her bed.

“Wha - ? Groo?”

Groo looked up from the sword that lay across his knees.

“I thought I would stay with you,” he said, placing the sword beside the bed, “to keep you company while you worry about your friend."

“Worry?” she repeated, walking into the en-suite to shower and change into the clothes Groo had brought from the apartment, “I’m not worried. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s only got a bump on the end.”

“You don’t mind my being here, Princess?”

Cordy paused as she turned on the shower, then plastered a smile on her face and peered into the bedroom. 

“Mind? Of course I don’t mind, Groo, honey. I’m glad you’re here.”

He grinned at that, thoroughly delighted and Cordy at once felt guilty that she lied and guilty that she didn’t appreciate his presence. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want him there; it was that she had wanted to be alone. She wanted to spend just one night alone to think and worry about what might have happened to Wesley without anybody telling her not to worry, to sleep, that it didn’t matter now.

Though she took her time with her shower and nightly ritual, Groo was still stubbornly awake when she went back into the bedroom. He pulled her close when she got into bed, caressing her hair and arms, kissing her shoulder before finally dozing off. 

She shifted slightly, loosening his slightly too tight grip. She sighed and pressed into the pillow, feeling suffocated by Groo’s constant, sweet, thoughtful attentions. She loved him, but she didn’t want him to always be there. It was enough that he lived with her, practically worked with her, he didn’t need to be with her when she was here for Wesley. She didn’t need him to make her breakfast every morning, tidy her apartment, ask her if she was hungry.

She heard him mumble “Princess,” in his sleep and felt immediately sick with guilt.

There were women out there who would kill for a guy like Groo. A gorgeous, strong, sweet, attentive, thoughtful guy like Groo. And all Cordy could do was wish he wasn’t so suffocating. 

She sighed, turning over, stifling a groan of frustration when he shifted to be nearer her and fell into a heavy sleep. 

***

It was Graduation Day and Cordelia was packing books into boxes in preparation for Buffy’s insane plan. She glanced back at Wesley, packing more books into another box behind her. He wasn’t looking at her and she stifled a sigh as she turned by to her task.

“Cordelia.”

She felt her heart leap when he said her name and she leapt with it, spinning round to face him.

“Yes,” she answered, a little too quickly. She silently cursed her lack of subtlety and wondered what it was about this man that turned Cordelia Chase, professional flirt into an obvious wreck of a teenage girl.

“You know that… when this is over…”

He tailed off and she jumped in immediately with yet another, “Yes?”

“Um, well, should we prevail…” he paused, met her eyes and said in a resigned voice, “I’ll be going back to England.”

Cordy swallowed, more upset than she should have been by that news. To cover her emotion, she turned back to the shelf and her task. No man ever saw Cordelia Chase cry.

“I know,” she said simply.

But he wasn’t shutting up, he wasn’t returning to his task. He hovered behind her, shifting awkwardly and Cordy wondered whether he knew he had hurt her. 

“With Buffy no longer working for the Council,” he attempted to explain, as if she needed it, “there really is… no place for me here.”

That hurt more that him saying he was leaving and she found herself growing angry. He was leaving; did he really have to rub it in? Did he really have to say he had no reason for staying, when every reason he ever needed and would ever need was standing right in front of him? Was he really that stupid? Or was he really that uninterested?

She turned around to face him, taking a step closer.

“I guess not,” she said, her anger melting when she saw his face. 

Of course he was interested; she had known that from the first time they laid eyes on each other. She realised now that this admission was not calculated to hurt her, but laid out in a way that wouldn’t hurt him should she not want him to stay.

“No…” he took a step toward her, clasping his hands, “reason to stay.” 

“No,” she shook her head, also coming toward him, inches at a time.

“No... No… cause to hope that,” he paused, swallowing hard as he pulled off his glasses. She only looked into his eyes for a second, before glancing down, oddly embarrassed, “I might be needed?”

His voice rose slightly in question and she had so much to say. Lines tumbled through her mind, about how much she needed him, though she had only known him a little while. 

“Needed?” she looked up at him, all she wanted to say compressed by breathless need into one incomprehensible word.

“Or… wanted…?” he tailed off again, the hope in his eyes telling her he thought wanted was asking a little too much.

“Wanted…” she repeated, stepping closer, no question in her voice this time because he was exactly what she wanted. And she wanted him to stay. She wanted him to stay for her, with her.

Encouraged by her close proximity, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her. She shivered at the touch, grasping for him as he pulled away. 

Faintly, she saw him smile and heard him laugh happily before he caught hold of her around the waist and pulled her close; dipping her backward like they were in some grand romantic, passionate scene in a Hollywood movie. She slipped her arms around his neck, needing, wanting him closer. She clutched as his jacket, tugging at it. He pulled one arm from round her waist and shrugged his jacket off, putting that hand back on her waist before removing the other one to pull out of the jacket completely.

His nervous hesitation returned as his fingers danced at the hem of her shirt. She pulled back, gasping for air.

“Touch me,” she breathed, pressing in for another kiss as they stumbled back into the bookcase he had been working at. 

His fingers slipped under her shirt, caressing the skin there and she leaned her head back as he moved to kiss her neck.

Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and she found that they weren’t in the library. They were in the middle of the Hyperion lobby. She wasn’t alarmed, just slightly surprised. She noticed the lack of weight from her hair and touched it, found a short stylish bob that felt natural, not alien at all. She straightened up, Wes glancing up at her. He wasn’t in his suit; he was in jeans and a navy shirt, looking slightly older, rougher round the edges than the Wesley in Sunnydale High School library on Graduation Day. 

Cordy couldn’t help but like it. She smirked, reaching for him and kissing him. 

Distantly she heard her name being called, but she ignored it, preferring instead to press closer to Wesley.

“Cordelia? Princess? Princess,” she groaned as Groo called her name and shook her.

“Wha-?” she murmured, opening her eyes to meet Groo’s blue eyes, not Wesley’s.

“You don’t have an alarm here,” he said gently, “I knew you wouldn’t want to be late for work. And don’t you want to check on Wesley?”

“Wesley?” Cordy blinked, sitting up and rubbing her head.

“Are you all right?” Groo asked, voice full of concern.

“I’m fine, Groo,” she said, gently pushing him away as she stood and headed towards the bathroom, “just peachy.”

***

TBC… 

Hopefully won’t be a five month wait next time, although there might be a while between updates, because of my exams. But I hope you like this chapter anyway!


End file.
